


Il mio sbaglio più grande (My Biggest Mistake)

by lunasenzanotte



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Break Up, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-16 12:41:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4625700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunasenzanotte/pseuds/lunasenzanotte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to E' stupido non dirtelo. Gigi had thought that leaving Riccardo would be the best thing for them both. He had no idea what a mess it would actually cause.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Il mio sbaglio più grande (My Biggest Mistake)

Riccardo promised he wouldn’t call Gigi anymore. He promised to Gigi and to himself. When Gigi said it was better like that, Riccardo actually believed him for a moment or two. But now he cannot understand how he ever lived without his presence in his life. Because what he has now cannot be even called life.

Sometimes he is in such desperate state that he feels like a tiger pacing around his cage. Except that probably a tiger would have more space for pacing around, as Riccardo’s dorm room is so small that he cannot even turn around without hitting some piece of furniture. And it’s not like he put something in there himself, except for a kettle. There are too many wardrobes for clothes he doesn’t have, too many shelves for cups and plates he doesn’t need and too many books he should read but cannot bring himself to open.

Days are tolerable. He spends them mostly outside, wandering about the city, blocking the outside world out with earphones and loud music. Yes, he should be sitting in class, listening to Pirlo’s explanations of Boccaccio’s stories that lose all of their comical potential in his interpretation, and also in the Organization of the Media class because Professor De Sanctis have already sent him a few e-mails concerning his absences. They are more and more threatening, but Riccardo keeps ignoring them.

He spends the evenings in fast food restaurants, trying to convince himself that he still feels like having a burger even though he already had it for dinner three times this week, staring at his phone and promptly ignoring all calls and messages from his classmates. They already stopped being so numerous and he knows in a few days or weeks there will be no more of them because everyone will just move on and stop caring about where he is or how he is doing.

The one number he’s waiting for never appears in the list of received messages or calls, and it’s never going to appear in the sent messages or called numbers again. Riccardo promised himself he wouldn’t try anymore.

In the rare moments when he’s actually in his room, he picks up books randomly and throws them away without reading a page, opens his laptop and starts a new file that’s supposed to be an assignment, but never gets past the title. He never lets anyone in even when there are knocks on the door. He knows Claudio and Antonio are staying in the same building and he takes care of avoiding them promptly, coming back either while they’re still in class or late in the evening, when the fast food restaurant staff finally throws him out. One girl at McDonald’s actually gives him such pitiful look every time that he’s sure she’d take him home with her if he asked her to.

The only person he opens the door to is the lady from the reception desk who comes to check the rooms from time to time to ensure the students haven’t destroyed them. She marvels at how clean everything is in his room, not knowing that it’s mostly because he doesn’t spend much time there, and besides that, cleaning the room is a nice distraction.

At night though, it feels like the walls are shrinking around him, like he can't escape, and he sits up on the bed, panting heavily, and has to kneel on the bed, open the window that's right above it and just breathe in the cold air that smells slightly of smoke and something distinctively sweet, decaying leaves probably. He’s never been claustrophobic, but now waking up to an empty room of a few square meters is worse than any of the nightmares he has while sleeping.

 

***

 

The fire alarm goes on at 2 am. The terrible noise that sounds like a school bell combined with a siren wakes Riccardo up and he searches for his clothes sleepily. Nobody actually hurries up during fire alarms because there is never a real fire. Every once in a while some drunken idiots light a cigarette in their rooms or someone burns something in the kitchen. The smoke and heat detectors are too sensitive for the taste of persons who like to sleep.

But the janitor still insists on everybody leaving the building during alarms, because “what if” and “you can never be sure”, so Riccardo puts his sweatpants on, throws a jacket around his shoulders and walks out of the room. Sleepy people with annoyed faces are heading to the stairs and outside the building. He meets the janitor on his way, going to check for the fire that most likely doesn’t exist.

The students are standing outside, mostly in their pajamas, shivering from cold and sleepiness. The girl next to Riccardo has only her underwear on and a thin jumper thrown over it. He can practically hear her teeth chattering and he at least offers her his jacket, because the gentleman who had helped her out of her clothes previously is now not in sight.

The janitor comes back in a few minutes, telling them that there’s (obviously) no fire and they can go back. With relieved sighs, everyone heads to the door. Riccardo makes two steps when someone grabs him by the shoulders and drags him along.

“Don’t try to escape!” Claudio’s voice growls in his ear when he tries to break free from the uncomfortable grip.

“Fuck you, Claudio, let me go!”

“Resistance is useless!” Claudio dismisses him. 

They have to stop at the door for a while, which is an opportunity for Claudio to grab Riccardo more comfortably (for himself, of course).

“Unbelievable,” he whispers in Riccardo’s ear. “One has to put a lighter to the fire detector to get you out of your burrow.” 

He drags still desperately trashing Riccardo to his own room and closes the door. Riccardo takes a look around. Claudio’s room is much bigger than his, mainly because it’s a double room. The other half of it is now empty, though. There is a huge poster of Juventus above the bed because Claudio obviously ignores rule number three of the dorm:  _Don’t stick or pin anything on the walls_. The lighter is still on the table, confirming Claudio’s version of the story. 

“Did you really have to do it at two am?” Riccardo asks.

“Of course,” Claudio grins. “I have a year of psychology, remember? At two am you’re in the deepest phase of sleep, which means when I wake you up, you’re the most vulnerable.”

“That’s right,” Riccardo yawns. 

“And I want you vulnerable, because I’m more likely to get things out of you.” 

Riccardo shakes his head. 

“Listen, I have nothing to tell you. I don’t want to talk, to anyone. I want to go back to my room and sleep!” 

He doesn’t add the “and never wake up, if possible”. 

“Will you sit down or do I have to tie you up?” Claudio asks in a way that makes it clear that he is prepared even for this possibility. “Be a good boy and I’ll make you some coffee.”

Riccardo gives up and sits on the empty bed. The dorm slowly goes quiet, the voices and steps on the corridors stop and so does the creaking of furniture. Claudio switches the kettle on and pours some instant coffee into two cups. He doesn’t pay any attention to Riccardo, which is only one of his psychological tricks, though, as Riccardo realizes too late. By the time Claudio turns to him, he had already picked up his usual pattern and settled on the bed the way he does when he’s alone in his room. Leaning over the wall, knees pulled up to his chest, he’s playing with his keys absent-mindedly, staring at the opposite wall blankly. Claudio sets the cups on the table and sighs. 

“God, you’re a mess!” he states.

 

***

 

“First it was just falling out with my parents,” Riccardo starts once Claudio takes the keys from him and replaces them with the cup of coffee. “That’s why I moved in here. It’s the only thing I can afford, for now, until the uni cuts off the financial support because they find out I haven’t showed up at school for some time.”

“And what reason is there for not going to school?” Claudio asks. 

“I don’t feel like it. I don’t feel like doing anything, seeing anyone, talking to anyone.”

“That’s not just because of the troubles with your parents, right?”

“No.”

Claudio sighs.

“Do I know him?”

Riccardo nods and drinks a bit of the coffee.

“From school?”

Riccardo nods again. Claudio starts guessing and Riccardo keeps drinking the slowly cooling coffee because this is clearly going to take a long time. 

“Well, I don’t know who else is there!” Claudio groans in frustration after trying even Chiellini, which causes Riccardo to choke on his coffee. “Probably only Pirlo.” 

“You’re close,” Riccardo says.

“Wh-“ Claudio looks at him incredulously. “What the hell, Riccardo,  _Gigi_?”

If he was in a better mood, Riccardo would gladly ask Claudio why Pirlo was a considerable candidate and Gigi wasn’t, but he only shrugs now.

“So him leaving last semester had something to do with you?” Claudio asks.

“Yes and no. Gigi said it became just too much, having to keep it all hush-hush. Nothing would really happen, but you know when people start to talk… And then there was his family of course, his parents wouldn’t approve of him having an affair with a student, who on top of everything is a boy, and Gigi said mine wouldn’t approve of it either and he didn’t want me to destroy my life. Which is exactly what happened, because I don’t talk to my parents, I’m systematically destroying my life and I’m alone in this.”

“You  _chose_  to be alone, you idiot!” Claudio states. “How the hell did you even happen to go out with Buffon?”

“You wouldn’t believe it, so I better keep it to myself,” Riccardo says, because he’s sure that Claudio would die if he told him he started going out with Gigi right after Pirlo was hitting at him. “Well, then… he decided to work on this project he made up just to have an excuse to leave. If he at least wanted to leave town or even the country, but now I have to live knowing he’s still here, just in a different part of the city. And I hate it.”

Claudio sighs and puts the empty cups on the table.

“So, let’s put your life back together, shall we?” he says then. “You’re moving in here.”

“What?”

“I have to keep an eye on you. Besides, that moron I was staying with luckily packed his bags last week and I’m not in the mood for another one like that and also don’t want to spend money paying this alone.” 

“I almost don’t have money to pay for my little cage and I eat burgers for dinner four times a week, where do you expect me to take the money from?”

“What about a part-time job, lazy ass?” Claudio suggests. “Even though you should probably be catching up with school, but maybe it would work.”

“You have something particular in mind?” Riccardo asks.

“Maybe.”

Claudio pulls out the spare pillow and cover from the wardrobe and throws them at Riccardo.

“Now go to sleep because tomorrow you’re going to school, and then maybe I’ll tell you more.”

“I’m not moving in here and I’m not going to school and I’m not going to work!” Riccardo protests while Claudio is tucking him under the cover. “And I’m not sleeping here!”

“Stop it or I will force feed you hypnotics and hold you down until you fall asleep!”

Riccardo looks at him at first with pleading eyes, then with eyes narrowed in what is supposed to be a look of hate.

“I hate you!” he says for emphasize.

There’s nothing Claudio isn’t prepared for, though. He only grins and attempts a motherly kiss on Riccardo’s forehead.

“I love you too, sweetie. Good night.”

 

***

 

Claudio practically drags him to school the next morning, not paying attention to him whining that “if I have to start again, I don’t want to start with Pirlo, please, can’t we go tomorrow?”

“It’s nice to know that you’re alive, Mr. Montolivo!” Pirlo says in a dangerously calm tone. “I hope you have some excuse for your... five consecutive absences if I count well.”

“Personal problems,” Riccardo mumbles. 

“I hope they are solved now?”

“Not completely. But I’m working on it.”

“Well, then coming to school is a good start. Keep it up.”

Claudio gives him an incredulous look.

“Man, what happened? He didn’t eat you alive!”

Riccardo just shrugs because understanding Pirlo was always beyond him. He tries his best to pay attention and focus on what Pirlo is saying, even though he has no idea what he’s talking about (missing five classes _was_  a bad idea).

He half-expects Pirlo to want to talk to him after the lesson, but nothing happens. He’s not sure whether it’s a good or a bad thing. But Claudio drags him out of the classroom to the other lesson they have, keeping an eye on him to make sure he’s not going to disappear again. 

He practically suffers through the Modern literature lesson, which is replacing Gigi’s course. Luckily the teacher doesn’t keep the absences records so strictly and he most probably doesn’t even know who Riccardo is, leave alone whether he attended the last lesson or not. Riccardo genuinely misses the almost family-like atmosphere of Gigi’s lessons, where everyone was called by their first name and it felt more like a friendly chat or a workshop than a real lesson. More probably, though, he misses only Gigi himself. 

“Fine,” Claudio says after the lesson as he drags Riccardo along to get some decent food. “I think you behaved, I can tell you about the job now.”

 

***

 

“It’s a coffee shop. The owner, Conte, is an ass when it comes to working hours, but he pays well.” 

“Claudio, last time I remember you couldn’t even make tea,” Riccardo laughs. “I mean putting a tea bag into the cup and pouring water over it without the whole place being a mess.” 

“You’re exaggerating, and I learned it!” Claudio frowns. “Trust me, with the other guy in there, Del Piero, behind your back, your fear won’t allow you to mess things up.”

“Doesn’t sound exactly like a dream job,” Riccardo notes.

Claudio makes a face.

“And what would your dream job look like, sitting on a tribune at Juventus Stadium and writing an article in your brand new laptop, eh? You’ll have to wait for that, dear.”

“Fine,” Riccardo sighs. “But only when I don’t have to work with you.”

“What would be so bad about working with me?” Claudio frowns.

“I’m going to live with you, and you’re next to me every lesson. Working with you would mean spending practically all twenty-four hours with you. You think someone could survive that?”

“No,” Claudio admits after a moment. “Hell, I don’t even know how I manage to spend all the time with myself!” 

 

***

 

At first, Riccardo really was skeptical, but truth is that the work is the distraction he needed. His mind doesn’t fly to Gigi so often when he has to remember which syrup flavor to put in which cup, when they run out of whipped cream just when everyone wants it on their hot chocolate, and when Del Piero is yelling “How long will I wait for that vanilla latté?” And when he occasionally allows himself to think of anything else than about what he’s doing, it usually results in a hot steam burn which reminds him to not think about Gigi - for days.

Conte is really what Claudio said he was. He pays well and in time, pays extras for weekends and doesn’t really bother with controlling what his employees are doing (and Riccardo is quite sure that he even doesn’t have to, because Del Piero seems to be disappearing in his office every now and then to report every coffee bean that falls on the floor). On the other hand, when someone tells him they have an extra lesson at school, he lifts his eyebrows in a silent “School? What is school?”

The fact that the coffee shop closes fairly late also results in Riccardo falling asleep in class several times, but Claudio always manages to wake him up before the teacher notices, and Riccardo pays him back when it’s after Claudio’s late shift. 

Once Claudio is missing Pirlo’s class, though, and when Riccardo wakes up, the classroom is empty and it’s Pirlo himself standing in front of him. 

“I’m not sure if it should be me or Boccaccio feeling offended here, Mr. Montolivo,” he says.

Riccardo curses in his mind.

“I… I’m sorry, professor.”

“That desk can’t be really comfortable.” 

“No, it isn’t,” Riccardo mumbles, moving his sore neck.

“Come with me, Mr. Montolivo,” Pirlo says and picks up his books. “I need to talk to you, and you need some coffee.”

Riccardo’s eyes go wide, but he gets up. When Pirlo is in a good mood, it’s wise to comply to his wishes.

 

***

 

“I almost got fired today,” Claudio says when he gets home.

Riccardo lifts his eyes from the laptop where he’s trying to put together an extra work Pirlo gave him in exchange for forgetting about his “five consecutive absences, it’s half of the semester, Mr. Montolivo”. 

“Why?”

“You know that silent alarm button under the counter that Conte had installed after they robbed the coffee shop twice?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I kinda forgot about it when I was cleaning the floor,” Claudio shrugs.

“And?”

“I remembered when the police arrived. Conte almost killed me.”

Riccardo almost falls off the bed.

“You’re an idiot, Claudio!”

“It wasn’t me, it was that stupid broom!” Claudio objects and throws his jacket on the bed. “So Pirlo gave you a last chance, eh? 

Riccardo sighs and looks at the screen.

“I’m not sure that it’s a chance. More like a punishment.”

“Are you kidding me? If  _I_  missed five classes, Pirlo would kill me and bury me under the books in his office, which would be a perfect murder because nobody would ever find me there.”

“He will do the same thing to me when he reads this,” Riccardo says and closes the laptop.

Claudio goes to the bathroom and stays there for his usual forty minutes. When he comes back, Riccardo is reading a book that scares Claudio even with its title. 

“I’m glad that you started going to school again, but aren’t you taking Pirlo a bit too seriously?” he asks.

Riccardo throws a highlighter pen at him and continues reading. Claudio is apparently in a chatty mood, though.

“Listen… you don’t even go out,” he says.

“No,” Riccardo says calmly, still trying to read.

“You’re not seeing anyone.”

“Of course not.” 

“Don’t you miss it?”

“Like what?" 

“Like sex, you idiot.”

Riccardo lifts his eyes from the page 

“So first you were a psychologist, now you’re a sexologist?” he asks. “I’m fine, Mr. Freud, thank you.”

Claudio makes a face and shrugs. Riccardo sits up and wraps his arms around Claudio’s waist from behind.

“Or was this an offer?” he asks in a husky voice, trying to nibble at Claudio’s ear.

“No, it wasn’t, imbecile!” Claudio yells and jumps up. 

Riccardo falls back on the bed, rolling on it and laughing so loudly that he’s almost sure the janitor will come to bang on their door.

“You were making fun of me!” Claudio says accusingly, throwing a pillow at him 

“Of course I was,” Riccardo says, wiping away the tears of laughter. “Did you really think I would ever hit on you?”

“Why did I even let you stay with me?” Claudio sighs.

 

***

Riccardo can tell immediately when he arrives to replace Claudio, who has to go to some press conference for his assignment, that Del Piero was at his best today.

“Ten more minutes and I’d kill him!” Claudio whispers to Riccardo when he’s putting on his jacket. “I don’t know what he thinks I am, an octopus probably, because I’d have to have eight arms to do everything as quickly as he imagines.”

Riccardo laughs.

“Go, you octopus, or you’ll be late. See you later.”

Claudio runs out of the coffee shop and waves from behind the window. Del Piero coughs behind the counter and Riccardo turns to him.

“Well… will you change or what?” Del Piero says.

 

***

 

Conte is long gone when the coffee shop is closing, and Del Piero disappears half an hour before the closing hour so that he doesn’t have to touch the broom. Riccardo doesn’t care. The longer something else than Gigi occupies his mind, the better.

The door suddenly flies open and a group of men enters. Riccardo doesn’t even have to ask them what they want, because just by looking at them he knows it’s not coffee. The remains of rational thinking tell him that he’s in big trouble, but he doesn’t even care. It scares him how much he doesn’t care. His own indifference scares him more than the gun he’s looking at.

When he finds himself in front of the safe in Conte’s office, he just stares at it. He doesn’t remember if he’s already spoken a word or not, but likely he hasn’t.

“Open it!” someone says.

“I don’t know how.”

He doesn’t even know where the blow comes from. The pain is absolutely blinding and he sinks to his knees, trying to catch his breath and somehow managing to stay conscious 

“Good try.”

Riccardo licks his lip and the coppery taste on his tongue reminds him that it’s really happening. Somebody grips his shoulders and pulls him up.

“Don’t be a fool, boy!” the voice is unpleasant but still somehow gentler than everything else. “It’s up to you how much it’s gonna hurt, spare yourself the trouble.”

Luckily the rationally thinking part of his brain wakes up again.  _It’s not your money, so who cares if they take it?_ He stumbles to the safe and opens it. Then he zones out again.

It’s simple. He goes where they push him to. Does what they tell him to do. He doesn’t think. Doesn’t even look around. He stares at something invisible.

“Step away from the counter!”

He takes a few steps back, until his back hits the desk with coffee machines, watches the men trying to open the cash register and wonders whether telling them that it’s useless would be a good or a bad thing to do.

“Come here!”

Riccardo approaches them without a word, mechanically, and just stands there until another flash of pain wakes him up.

“Open it, what are you waiting for?”

He passes his card through the reader and types in the code. The register opens and Riccardo just waits for them to shoot him now they don’t need him anymore. But for now they only shove him to the corner of the counter and forget him for a while.

The best corner they could have chosen.

_If I have to die, then let it be it,_  he thinks.

And he presses the silent alarm button.

 

***

 

Gigi runs through the door of the police station so fast that the cops are probably thinking he is some maniac who wants to kill them all. The fact that he’s cursing under his breath is not helping it.

He thanks God when he makes sure that Riccardo is alive and quite alright at the first sight, except for a split lip and a bruise already forming on his cheekbone.

“Can I take him home?” he asks the nearest officer.

He doesn’t expect anything else than a positive answer, because trying to deny him something when he’s angry would be probably the last thing the person in uniform would do in his life.

“Sure.”

Gigi wraps his arm carefully around Riccardo’s waist and pulls him up.

“Come on, let’s go home!” he says quietly.

Riccardo is completely unresponsive during the whole journey, which doesn’t worry Gigi that much. He already knows it’s just Riccardo’s way of coping with unpleasant things. He needs to hide in his shell for a while.

He comes out of the shell only when Gigi sits him down on the sofa in his living room and wraps a blanket around him.

“I’m sorry,” Riccardo whispers.

“Sorry for what?” Gigi asks softly.

“For calling you,” Riccardo says. “I promised I wouldn’t, but your number was the only one I knew by heart and…”

His face crumples and Gigi pulls him into a tight embrace.

“Shh, it’s fine. I’m here. It’s fine.”

Riccardo grips the back of Gigi’s neck with cold, clammy fingers and hides against him.

"Let me stay with you," he whispers despairingly.

Tentatively, Gigi brings his two hands to Riccardo’s shoulders and places a delicate kiss on his jaw. Riccardo gazes at his familiar features that define his face — his lips, his cheeks, his nose, his eyes. The eyes he loves. Gigi smiles.

“Of course you’re not going anywhere now,” he says.

It’s a safe answer, but Riccardo doesn’t even hear the word ‘now’ at the end of the sentence. The permission to stay is the only thing he needs right now, and he doesn’t care how long it will last.

“I was so scared, Gigi,” he breathes.

“It’s fine now,” Gigi soothes him, pressing a kiss on Riccardo’s wet cheek. “You’re fine. You’re my brave boy.”

Riccardo almost falls asleep on Gigi’s shoulder and getting him to bed is like handling a rag doll. He curls up in Gigi’s arms immediately, gripping the front of his shirt and refusing to let go. Gigi lays next to him, waiting patiently until Riccardo’s breathing slows down. Then he turns on his back and runs a hand through his hair.

He’s not sure at all if this is the best or the worst thing he’s ever done.

 

***

 

Gigi leans on his elbow when Riccardo tries to get up from the bed in the morning. 

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“I have to go to school.”

Gigi sighs and pulls him back.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

“I have to…” Riccardo whispers, his body already giving up, but mind still protesting. “Pirlo will kill me.”

Gigi laughs heartily.

“Nah, I’m sure he won’t,” he says. “He likes you after all.”

“Are you crazy?” Riccardo mumbles, moving closer to Gigi. “Pirlo hates me.”

“If he hated you, I don’t think he would be worried about you not going to school or sleeping in class enough to call me.”

“He… he called you?”

“When he said that he had noticed some effort from Marchisio to check on you, I thought it was fine. I should have known better than to trust Marchisio to be responsible enough.”

“But he was,” Riccardo sighs. “Just I wasn’t even trying.”

Gigi wraps his arms around him and presses a kiss in his hair.

“Because I missed you,” Riccardo whispers. “I missed you so much that I almost didn’t care if they kill me or not.”

“Enough of this stupid talk,” Gigi frowns. “Now close those ridiculously beautiful eyes and don’t move before I make breakfast.”

Riccardo gives him a weak smile and obeys. He’s too tired to move anyways.

***

The doorbell rings after breakfast and Gigi goes to answer the door. Then he comes back with a smile on his face.

“You have a visit,” he says. “Mr. Marchisio. I’d say he’s quite… stressed out.”

Claudio runs into the room and wraps his arms around Riccardo carefully.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Monty!” he breathes.

“I’m alright,” Riccardo assures him.

“I see,” Claudio sighs, looked at the bruise on Riccardo’s face.

“Shouldn’t you be in Pirlo’s class right now?” Riccardo asks.

“Fuck Pirlo, I needed to be sure you’re alive!” Claudio says. “I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry about what?”

“About what? It should have been me there yesterday!”

“No, it shouldn’t. It shouldn’t have been anyone.”

Claudio falls silent. Then he turns to the door, checking that Gigi is out of earshot.

“So, have you two fucked yet?” he asks.

“Claudio!”

“What? Even I would fuck you right now! You finally look rugged and manly.”

Riccardo slaps him on the back and shakes his head.

“You’re an idiot,” he says. “But I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

***

Riccardo falls asleep on the sofa in the afternoon. When he wakes up, Gigi is writing something on the computer. The sound of Gigi’s fingers on the keyboard makes him smile.

“You don’t have to bang on it like that, it’s not a typewriter, you know?” he says and stretches out on the sofa.

“I’m not that old to be used to typewriters!” Gigi objects.

“How is it going?” Riccardo asks.

“What?”

“The project that was so important that you had to leave the university because of it. If it even exists.”

Gigi closes his laptop, sets it on the table and turns to him.

“Of course it exists,” he says calmly. “It’s a book on the history of  _commedia dell’arte_  and its influence on modern theatre, if you’re interested.”

“You didn’t have to leave,” Riccardo whispers.

“Riccardo…” Gigi sighs.

“No, you didn’t have to!” Riccardo interrupts him and gets up from the sofa. “You said you didn’t want me to destroy my life, but that’s exactly what happened! You told me I didn’t understand what I was getting into, but hell I do understand, it’s you who didn’t understand! We were together in it, there was no me and you, there was only us, and I don’t know why you had to break it!”

Gigi takes a breath but before he manages to say something, Riccardo practically  _jumps_  on top of him and the armchair even moves a few inches. He doesn’t know if he’s still a bit out of his mind or if he’s just so desperate, but he couldn’t care less about reasonable arguments. He smashes their mouths together and reaches for the opening of Gigi’s trousers at the same time, and before Gigi can collect his thoughts enough to try to stop him, Riccardo’s hand on his cock is robbing him of those thoughts already.

It’s quick, rough and confused, it hurts in some moments and neither of them thinks much. It’s an animal fight for dominance and Riccardo wins it this time, because he’s desperate and he has nothing to lose anymore.

“Now say that our relationship was a mistake!” he whispers when he brings Gigi over the edge, exactly like he did it for the first time in the hallway of this apartment.

“Yes, it was a mistake,” Gigi breathes.

Riccardo looks up at him and Gigi pulls him into a kiss.

“But I would make that mistake again,” he says.

 


End file.
